


The Light You Give

by manonrose284



Series: After All the Darkness You Give Us Light [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Development, Domestic Fluff, Happy, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Recovery, Smart Lance (Voltron), Training, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 18:31:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17792522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manonrose284/pseuds/manonrose284
Summary: Sequel to After All You Have Done (i’d go read that first so you aren’t confused). I was gonna make this one shots but decided not to :)  Although these aren’t one shots, Every few chapters will shift in theme. If you have any suggestions for a chapter theme let me know <3Here are the topics so far that I’ll be touching on:-Injury-Testing Strength-Training-Domestic Life-Shiro Proofing the Castle





	The Light You Give

_This Chapter Takes Place: five weeks after the transformation_

 

“Another one?” Lance groaned in response to the blaring alarm that had activated almost exactly as he’d yielded himself to the sofa’s warm embrace.

Pidge was inclined to agree, voicing her opinion with an embarrassingly childish moan. The calls had been non-stop for the past few days that saw the paladins of Voltron careening through space.

The Galra, it seemed, had no concept of taking a day off; it seemed that their luck of being relatively undisturbed during Shiro’s near death experience had worn out. From what little intel Pidge was able to gather on their recent missions, the purple bastards were still on the hunt for a rare piece of metal necessary to the motherships survival after it’s last run in with Voltron all those months ago.

Keith rose from the spot he’d sunk into on the floor and took in the rest of the team.

Allura and Coran– swaying on their feet; Lance and Pidge– barely conscious. Hunk cringed as he stretched, but stood from the sofa nonetheless. And Shiro… the lion was standing by the window, looking out into the bright star flecked expanse. The alarm stopped blaring, having gotten the message across, and Shiro turned making his way towards Keith who was having trouble not smiling at the clearness in his eyes, the effortless way he placed one paw in front of the other; one of carved white and the other of dark velveteen fur.

Shiro’s mane quivered as he looked around at the others.

“ _They need rest,”_ he said. And Keith was proud that he didn’t flinch at the soft voice echoing inside his mind. It had taken some getting used to, this way of ‘speech’. In those initial days after the transformation, when Shiro’s body still ached at the sudden change, he had spoken to them only when absolutely necessary, and even then usually only to Keith.

The red paladin knew it was because Shiro was afraid of startling the others, even though everyone was just impossibly relieved that he could communicate with them at all.

Why he even could and how he did so was still a mystery to Pidge, who had been trying to understand more about this new form in her limited spare time. For now, it remained understood among them all that it was simply a gift. Shiro could speak in the same way as before– could shout or whisper– the only difference being that the words would be voiced in the minds of those within listening range, rather than spoken through his throat.

Shiro had been extremely fatigued that second day– barely five weeks ago– from practicing his new way of speech. 

And now, as Shiro stood before he and Hunk, Keith knew he was proud of himself. Saw the pleased flick of his ebony tail, the solid stance he placed each limb in.

“ _The three of us can do this_.”

Hunk looked between the two and nodded before going over to the wall in order to read the display.

“Yah, we got this. Scanner’s picking up a singular cruiser that’s landed on a peaceful planet.” He huffed to himself, “Probably some hounds looking for the repair pieces.”

Keith nodded at the briefing. The others tried to haul themselves from where they were sprawled, but he waved a hand. “It’s all good everyone. We got this.”  

A few looks of concern were shot back but Shiro read them well. “ _I’m fine._ ”

And for the first time probably ever, they believed him.

“ _I did alright on the other missions, this call is no different.”_

Pidge snorted and even with his eyes closed, Lance didn’t have to wonder why. After a lot of back and forth, they had let Shiro go with them on the first few calls— not wanting to stress this new body too soon, Allura had forbade him from going on anymore for the week. But those missions he’d been permitted to attend had been extremely short. Shiro had eradicated their targets with brutal efficiency, to the point that the others were getting in the way. By the last one he’d been allowed on, they had finally worked out the new dynamics and Lance had been awestruck when he’d stopped in the midst of fighting to see paladins and Shiro flowing together in a lethal dance— working off each other’s strengths and ending the Galra’s search before it began.

“Can he come Allura?” Hunk pleaded to the princess who lifted her head with a fatigued nod. Turning to Keith and Shiro, Hunk smiled wide.

“ _We gonna keep standing here or…_ ”

Laughter, tired yet strong filled the room as the three turned to leave.

Once in the hall, Hunk gave a nod to Keith then Shiro and raced in the opposite direction; towards Yellow’s hanger.

It had been determined early on in the maelstrom of alarms and missions that Shiro was to ride in the Black Lion with Keith piloting her. For some reason, yet to be discovered, his presence had an odd effect on the other Lions.

When Shiro had tried to board, they had refused to open their maws or lower their heads. Which left Shiro beside Keith as they hurried to the hanger of the Black Lion.

“Keep up man,” Keith said to the male beside him. A smirk crept onto Shiro’s face, due to the fact that he was walking at a brisk pace while Keith was pumping his arms in a run… and they were both tandem in the hallway. Keith nudged Shiro’s arm at the look on his face, and the males laughter filled Keith’s mindscape at the cringe he’d made when his arm connected with the solid muscle of Shiro’s fur covered shoulder.

Keith let out a bark of laughter, head raised to the ceiling as he and Shiro boarded the Black Lion. Hearts full and light with ethereal happiness.

The Black Lion roared to life, display panels illuminating skin and fur, as Keith sent her vaulting through the massive door and into the great star-flecked beyond.

* * *

 

The three hadn’t been on the once peaceful planet for more than a few breaths before they had been absorbed into the warrior cries of Glara and inhabitants alike.

“ _They’re fighting back_ ,” Shiro had said incredulously, seconds before launching into action to help the sea green beings who were, much to the Galra’s surprise, resisting the attempted massacre.

Armed with sharpened tree limbs from the glimmering forest that covered the opposite side of the small planet, they were, for the time being, successfully holding off their invaders.

And now, from where he stood amongst it all, Hunk still couldn’t help but be amazed each time he caught a glimpse through the battle of that magnificent black smear tearing through each opponent brave or stupid enough to face him– Shiro.  

Together, Hunk and Pidge had spent many nights since it all went down, crouched over calculators and pads of paper, trying to figure out how it was possible for this new body, made almost entirely of stone hard muscle, to move so swiftly as he fought.

And each night, they would keel over with exhaustion, no closer to finding an answer more scientific than “it’s just magic, dude”.

But as Hunk’s arms were once again pushed back by the familiar kickback of his gun, a growl both low and deafening rumbled along the fighting ground. Disturbing even the layer of dust that seemed to coat the grassy field beneath their feet, everyone stopped at the sound. And as one, the sea green beings beside him and the Galra he’d been facing  turned with Hunk to see their Commander holding Keith by the neck… gun pressed to the red paladin’s throbbing jugular.

No one– not even the other Galra– moved.

Hunk didn’t think he was breathing.

The Commander’s wide smile dropped to a grim sneer as a snarling beast approached him– as _Shiro_ approached him.

“Not another step, _Shiro_ ,” he spat the name in mockery, but Hunk could see the bead of sweat sliding down his scared purple face at the sight of barely contained muscle and silver lined scars.

The Commander slid his eyes over the new prosthetic as it gleamed in the light– the sun’s echo– and took in the razor sharp claws protruding from each paw.

And Shiro, who was now crouched, those claws unsheathing further into the dirt, halted.

“ _Let him go_ ,” real snarls clipping each word as Shiro sent the sentence into the mindscape. The Galra flinched at the intrusion, not used to being spoken to in this unique way.

Even the Commander widened his eyes a fraction and tightened his hold on Keith’s throat in surprise. An action which  elicited a near silent grunt of discomfort from Keith. But Hunk saw Shiro's ears flick forward– knew the small noise must have sounded like a scream to him.

Every muscle in Shiro’s body froze taught, coiled to spring; his golden eyes boring into the Commander’s yellow irises.

Keith’s own eyes grew wide in horror. Not at the gun pressing into his neck, Hunk realized, and not at Shiro whose ears had flattened and muzzle was drawn up into a snarl that promised murder. No, Keith was looking further beyond the voluminous black mane that seemed to absorb the sunlight unlike the prosthetic and silver lined scars.

Hunk noticed the Commander flick his gaze in the same direction before narrowing back on the lion so eager to taste the blood of this creature that was hurting Keith.

Suddenly, a strange sensation filled Shiro. Some sort of overwhelming emotion mixed with ancient instinct. Not like the blind rage he would sometimes get as a human when one of the paladins was in trouble… no this– this was a wave of pure clarity and peace.

Shiro didn’t understand it, but he could feel his pulse slow, his racing heartbeat calm. And when he blinked for the first time since he laid eyes on that purple hand clawing at Keith’s throat, he could map out the exact place where he should sink each of his front claws into. Knew exactly how much force it would take for his teeth to rip out the creature’s throat.

But the yellow eyed creature spoke again, unaware of the silver threaded beast’s newfound clarity. And the beast smiled.

“You are going to come with me, Champion. Hagar will be _thrilled_ to know you are alive and well.”

Thankful that the threat couldn’t drown Shiro anymore, Hunk– in the stealthiest way possible– took a few steps to his left, until he could see what had caught Keith and the Commander’s eye. He scanned the mass of bodies and… there! Two Galra soldiers were creeping through the shadows… creeping towards the the three. And then Hunk saw what they carried. Blades that almost looked like… hooks.

Large gleaming curves of metal, that looked sharp enough to tear through– _oh shit_

Keith looked around desperately, realizing Shiro was too deep in what seemed to be a heightened protective instinct to sense the impending danger. Keith’s eyes finally locked with Hunks and a look of understanding flashed. But it was too late, Hunk couldn’t think of a plan quick enough as Shiro took a step forward, metal paw sending a plume of dust from the ground– thick claws impaling the dirt.

It was all he could do to shout “BEHIND YOU!”. For at the same time that Shiro launched himself at the Commander’s throat with impossible agility, the two Galra sprung from the shadows, straight at their target.

The scream that ripped from the depths of Keith’s soul was sharp as the blades that found their mark.

Hunk was moving before he realized, but too slow. He was too slow.

Every bounding step he took was another inch of metal being driven into flesh and muscle. Shiro slammed to the ground mid leap, the force of his body and the two Galra’s strength as they drove their weapons home sent a tremor beneath Hunks feet.

Hunk barely noticed the Castle of Lions fill the sky, shooting as many Galra as possible, nor did he register the other Lions careening towards the three. All he saw was red.

The red coating a fallen knife he’d picked up– as it slit the two throats above Shiro, as it was hurled at the Commander’s shocked form eliciting a cowards cry as the knife found a home in the creature’s rotted heart.

Keith jerked his head to stare up in awe from where he was knelt in now bloodied grass. Hunk only reached out a hand and pulled him up.

Then they raced for Shiro.

Sliding in the gore that Hunk realized in horror was mostly Shiro’s, Keith screamed out, “Wait! Just– oh my g– don’t move, Shiro! It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay, the other’s are on their way.”

With furrowed brows Keith pleaded with ghosting hands over Shiro’s shaking form, trying to ignore the twin blades protruding deep within the folds of his back.

Shiro was trying desperately to rise, a vain attempt due to the duel heavy flowing streams of crimson sliding along the curvatures of his back. Lucky– so lucky those knives hadn’t been driven in a few centimeters to either side, or else his spine could have been severed.

As they waited for what felt like eternity for the Lion’s to land and Coran to bring out the med cart, Hunk and Keith stayed deathly silent, waiting and hoping desperately to hear Shiro’s comforting voice in their heads.

But there was nothing.

The two stayed kneeling beside him, trying to lend any comfort they could. “Shiro?” Keith finally whispered when all was ready to transport him into the Castle of Lions.

They were now sitting in a pool of dust and blood, images threatening to drown them both of those not so far memories of toxin and glass and unending pain. But still no voice filled their minds. No glittering quintessence melded with their own.

Keith would have thought Shiro unconscious given his impossibly still form, but the barely-there shallow breathing and intermittent tremors told him otherwise.

“He might be in too much pain to communicate right now,” Coran offered, brows scrunched in worry. He gave a quick glance to the growing crowd of sea green beings around them. “We need to get him inside.”

Pidge raced down the ramp, barreling towards them, “Guys! They cryotubes aren’t big enough to fit him, I measured them all!”

A shadow passed over Allura’s face. “We can figure it out once these are out,” a nod to the metal glimmering in the sunlight, “and replenish his blood which is dropping every second we stand here.”

She and Coran prepared themselves to haul Shiro onto the transport when Lance shot a hand out.

“Wait, look!” He gasped with a pointed finger to the mess. “Doesn’t that look almost like he’s– like the skin is… trying to heal _around_ them?”

Coran crept closer and nodded, because sure enough, the sickeningly wide rips were beginning to slowly move back together. “That’s exactly what’s happening. Which grants us some time but not much. Let us move, now.”

And with that they slid him onto the bed, with some help from the planet’s inhabitants who were muscular in their own right and wanted to help the beast that had protected its own, and transported him up the ramp.

* * *

 

Once inside and transferred onto a massive metal table that Pidge had moved to the rooms center– the only surface big enough to fit him– Shiro began working his jaw, almost like he was trying to speak in the way he did as a human.

“What is it Shiro?” Keith said with concern, having been watching every twitch of pain that contorted the lion’s face.

But a sound so unlike the screams of pain was his only answer. Whimpering, low and full of exhausted agony echoed between them, loosening a memory Lance had of the stray dog that used to beg outside his door for food.

Coran rushed to his side, pushing Keith aside gently. “Allura, we need to get these out. Now.”

As the princess got into position, mirroring Coran’s hands that were hovering at the base, she forced herself to within a few seconds, fully asses the situation.

_Without emotion… fully analytical. You can do this,_ Allura thought to herself. _Just like Pidge taught you._

So she faced the prone body beneath her hands, and looked. Really _looked_ , despite the way the sight made her heart twist in a way that was becoming a familiar form.

Blood– always with the _blood_.

So much of it, so much life leaking through the twin holes now boring through his brand new flesh that was trying to close. So heavy those rivers flowed, that the beautifully silky coat of darkness was matted; pressed flat into the twitching muscles. The uneven rise and fall of his chest beneath the layer of warm liquid was becoming more shallow with every breath, allowing the light to reflect off the crimson. A mockery to the ebony fur; an ocean drowning the silver scars.

Allura’s hands closed around the left hook and she began to gauge how hard she’d need to pull, as it seemed to be firmly embedded through the shoulder. It was a wonder it hadn’t pierced his heart.

Coran gave a nod to Allura who echoed it back, then to Hunk and Lance who were ready with two large patches that would prevent infection while whatever sliver of self-healing the Black Lion had gifted Shiro did its mending. This would give them enough time to insert the IV that was ready with a bag of crimson plasma.

Despite the deeply strained whimpers, Shiro seemed to sense what was about to happen, and tried to still the parts of his body still under his control through the immense pain.

Keith stepped forward and placed a hand on his thick make, disappearing beneath the white shock of fur. With one last huff of breath, Shiro closed his honey eyes from his friends, and the whimpering ceased.

Coran cleared his throat and clasped his hands with expert gentleness around the base of the right hook. Locking eyes with Allura one last time, he counted.

“One, two, three!”

With all the force of two Alteans, Shiro’s speared form was lifted from the table. The paladins squinted their lids in anticipation for a spray as the hooks were ripped from his back.

But there was no spray.

The blades did not release their fatal grip.

For the metal was too slick, and despite their strength, the hooks slid from their grasp and Shiro hit the table with a sickening thud and frighteningly weak roar.

Pidge had to grab Lance as she flung herself backwards to keep them both from being struck with the prosthetic limb as it fell with his body. Shiro’s ivory lined maw opened wide but only a strained whisper of ragged sound escaped.

“Sorry!” Allura yelped as Coran jumped back in surprise that they had failed.

Keith, who had been knocked to the floor, sprung to his feet and despite the still bared teeth and unsheathed claws, rushed to Shiro placing a hand on either side of his velveteen face. And he held those eyes with his own; removed one hand from the smooth cheek and placed it over that scar– the one with no traces of silver.

And Shiro calmed.

Breathing still ragged and drawn out whimpers returned, but Shiro did not break the gaze. Did not shy away from the touch.

And without looking away, Keith whispered to the others, almost like he knew Shiro wasn’t capable of hearing anything through the deafening agony screaming from his back, “The gauze. Wrap it around the metal. Don’t pull straight up, they’re curved.”

Lance hurried to the cabinet and retrieved the wrap, throwing it to Coran who began following Keith’s directions.

A sharp whine, much higher than the now monotone ones, sliced through the air as Shiro broke eye contact and attempted to look behind him at what Coran was doing to cause the fresh pain.

Pidge saw how the pitch of that cry ripped into Keith’s still recovering soul, yet he fought through it. Quickly reaching out, Keith found those otherworldly irises once more.

But as Coran moved to the second, Keith saw those lids begin to droop. From over Keith’s shoulder, Lance saw the losing battle Shiro was having with consciousness.

“Uh guys? Might wanna hurry up there,” Lance whispered none too quietly.

A bead of sweat slid down Corans brow as he threw the leftover gauze onto the floor, his hands red from the ministrations.

Once again, Allura joined him on the opposing side, and readied her hands… and her soul.

This time, her hands weren’t met with the sticky yet slick fluid, or the unforgiving bite of cold metal. With a sure grip and at a better angle for the curved blade, she looked to Coran in question. With no time for a countdown, he nodded and they pulled.

Within seconds, the blades were clattering to the floor, pieces of bandage now covering where they had just been.

And when the lion let his drooping lids slide shut, they did not open. But a final noise, the softest of purrs, let them all know that he was alright. That he was closing his eyes because _he_ wanted to.

They all looked up at each other. All except for Keith, whose hands were lost within that glorious mane.

And although he knew all eyes were on him– knew his family not by blood but by bloodshed could see his face– he did not hide the crystal tear that slid down his pale skin. Nor lower his voice as he spoke to Shiro’s unconscious form.

“That was too close, Shiro. I can’t lose you again,” and Keith looked up to the somber faces above him to seal the promise. “Never again.”  



End file.
